


The Entire History of Human Desire

by choisan (lovelykenobi)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: 80s AU, Also American AU, Angel!Baekhyun, Angel!Junmyeon, Angel!Kyungsoo, Band Member!Chanyeol, Bassist!Jongdae, Demon!Minseok, Demon!Yixing, Drummer!Sehun, Human!Chanyeol, Incubus!Minseok, Keyboardist!Jongin, M/M, Rocker!Chanyeol, XiuBaekYeol is endgame like I said, all the humans are punk and gay, also i said fuck canonical age gaps, and made chanyeol the youngest, anyway this fic is going to be edgy, do i need to tell you guys there will be smut since minseok is literally a S E X D E M O N, guitarist!chanyeol, lots of smut, oh fuck here we go, that's not special hes an angel irl, whatevr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 20:26:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17946548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelykenobi/pseuds/choisan
Summary: Park Chanyeol is an important human caught in a fight between heaven and hell, but he doesn't know it.Essentially: succubus!minseok/human!chanyeol/angel!baekhyun fic.





	The Entire History of Human Desire

**Author's Note:**

> This gave me so much stress, the amount of expose that I packed in!!!!! Lore is fucking hard. My butt hurts from sitting on a wood bench at the dining hall for so long. But I am SO happy to be able to finally put this out and I am praying to g o d it gets a good response because I am so excited about it. Please let me know what you think about this fic! Kudos and comments (but comments especially!!!) Help me gauge a response and if it's worth spending time on it. Thank you so much for reading!!! <3

It was rare that human matters became an involvement with both heaven and hell. For the most part, both parties preferred to watch from the sidelines as earth turned on it’s steady axis and humans followed one of the paths predestined for them, whether it took them to heaven or hell. For the most part, it didn’t matter what humans did, which decisions they made-- the earth would keep turning and heaven and hell would remain in place, the same. 

But every once in a long while, someone important would come along, someone who was destined to have some impact on Earth that was notable enough for heaven or hell to desire to get involved. Neither heaven or hell knew the relative goodness of the impact that one person would have, but they did know how significant that impact would be. Even rarer was it that heaven and hell both desired for one person invested in the relative good or evil of a person; the decisions they made. 

Artists, musicians, philosophers, religious leaders, tyrants and dictators, all were more likely to come under the eye of heaven and hell. And Park Chanyeol was one of those musicians, straddling the line between good and evil-- and all heaven and hell knew was that destiny said he was going to mean something  _ big.  _

From a young age, Chanyeol was a good person. He lived under the gaze of heaven. His parents took him to church every Sunday, and read him stories from the Bible before tucking him in bed. He grew up singing in the church choir. Eventually he learned to play the guitar and he played in the church band. 

He was a good kid. Chanyeol did service work, participated in bake sales, and raised money around holidays. His talent only grew as he got older, and heaven had high expectations that with his talents and his good heart, the impact he would have on the world would be good. There wasn’t any way he could succumb to any form of evil. Despite the fact that the world around him as he grew up through the 70s wasn’t one of pure good, Chanyeol managed. He seemed to be one of the few truly good that heaven had got their hands on in a while. 

In 1980, Chanyeol became acquainted with someone far different than the church crowd he’d known. Oh Sehun came into his sophomore year English class, eyes rimmed in black, lip pierced, skinny jeans ripped to hell. Chanyeol hadn’t paid much attention to anyone like that before, but something about him caught his eye.

Chanyeol’s awkwardness and formality at first didn’t break through Sehun’s cold exterior, but after some time, Chanyeol broke through and the two became fast friends-- an unlikely duo, but it worked somehow-- Sehun was funny and as into music as Chanyeol was. He showed Chanyeol everything he’d been shielded from; Zeppelin and AC/DC and Bowie and Queen and a million other things Chanyeol couldn’t have imagined before. 

Heaven dismissed Chanyeol’s momentary slip into popular culture as normal, a foray into the world outside of the fishbowl he’d lived it. But as Sehun and Chanyeol spent more and more time listening to and playing music together, driving around in Sehun’s shitty car and going to local showings at bands, heaven began to hope it was just another part of the phase. The two boys began to play music all the time, jamming with Sehun on the drums and Chanyeol on his guitar, and found that they were actually pretty good together. 

Eventually, Chanyeol snuck out and disappeared for a weekend to see a show with Sehun at a bar in the city. There he smoked his first joint and got his first drink and kissed his first boy. Heaven didn’t hold reservations against those things but after that night, it only got worse. Chanyeol lost himself in the culture, in his music, in the weird tension he had with Sehun. His old life became more and more boring to him, and he started to lose interest in it all, in was church, in school. He just wanted to be lost in the music. He wanted to listen and write and play and nothing else much mattered to him.

Along the way, some half hearted idea came up to try and actually play music for real, which required other people, obviously. They met Jongdae first at a show they were all attending, and when Sehun got to chatting, he soon learned that Jongdae was a bassist who’d been drifting for a while, writing his own music since his old band had fallen apart. Sehun, of course, asked him to play with them, and Jongdae obliged, although it was obvious he was reserved about it.

They played together, and despite the fact that it was awkward at first, they sounded good together. Jongdae had a beautiful voice, high and clear, which matched well with the soft but deep tones of Chanyeol’s. 

They met Jongin at a party Jongdae brought them to. Chanyeol still was a bit reserved at parties, but the three smoked a bowl first and it helped loosen his nerves-- enough to wind up tucked away in a corner with a stranger. Before anything could happen, Chanyeol heard beautiful sounds emitting from the room where he’d seen the piano before, and he wandered in to find a boy with kohl-lined eyes and a leather jacket playing it, his eyes closed as he lost himself in the music. 

Jongin turned out to be a nice dude, if not a bit reserved, and he seemed to fit in snugly, the final piece of the group. At first no one was really sure if they actually would make anything good together, but they kept writing anyway. And together, they kept getting better. They began to become a cohesive unit, inseparable, writing and drinking and smoking.

Chanyeol started spending more nights at Sehun’s, their friendship outstaying whatever fling they kept toying with-- writing and smoking and sleeping and listening to the radio, repeating it all over again. He felt like they were actually starting to make something good, something worthwhile their time and Chanyeol’s blistered fingers. Maybe they could actually mean something, maybe their music could actually mean something.

And heaven was inclined to agree with him, also they were starting to come up with a contingency plan -- Chanyeol had fallen off the righteous path.  

\--------------------------------------

It was unbelievable how quick time passed. How three years could slip away just like one could slip into sleep. 

Chanyeol turned 18 in Sehun’s basement, half high with Jongdae asleep on his lap, Jongin flipping through Sehun’s cassette collection. There was some heavy guitar playing in the background, filling the silence. They’d worked their way through almost three whole pizzas as a group and were languishing in the food coma of greasy cheese and cheap beer. 

“You know,” Chanyeol said, sleepily. “Three years ago I think I would’ve hated the person I am now.” 

Sehun laughed, full bellied. “When I first met you, I wasn’t sure if you were trying to be my friend or perform an exorcism.”  

Chanyeol smiled, trying to adjust himself without moving Jongdae too much. “You know I wanted to be your friend, right? I just had no idea what to do with someone different.” 

“And look where we are now.” Sehun said, lying on his back and staring up at the spinning ceiling fan. “Three gay losers.” 

“Three gay losers  _ trying to put out an album.  _ With another, albeit sleepier, gay loser.” Jongin added in. “And it’s going to be fucking amazing.” 

Sehun nodded in acknowledgement. “I wonder what things will be like in three more years.” 

Everyone paused for a moment, both craving to imagine the future and not being able to bear it. 

“Let’s talk about it in the morning. Dae’s putting me to sleep.” Chanyeol gently lifted Jongdae’s head, his body slumping to the floor as he kept snoring. He tucked a pillow underneath his head. Chanyeol laid down on the couch, throwing the old blanket over himself. It smelled like Sehun and weed.

“Goodnight guys.” Chanyeol said, setting his glasses aside. 

“Goodnight,” a chorus responded to him. 

\-----------------------------------------------------

_ It wasn’t the first time he’d had the dream and it wouldn’t be the last, but it was always the same. Chanyeol would wake up in his bed at home or on Sehun’s pull out couch, and he always knew that there was something in the room with him.  _

_ Either he’d call out the presence or the presence would appear to him before he could say anything. The dark haired man would present himself, sometimes clothed, oftentimes not. His eyes glowed red, his pupils slits like a cat’s. And just with sight of him, Chanyeol felt overcome with something like desire, but something also like madness, an overwhelming lust that he couldn’t bear-- he didn’t know the name of the stranger but he wanted him immediately, desperately.  _

_ The stranger’s voice was soft, silk and honey and cold ice on his skin. “Tell me what you want, Chanyeol.”  _

_ He was already throbbing, his cock tenting his boxers. He never questioned why the stranger knew his name, or why he was there, but it didn’t matter.  _

_ “Y-you.” Chanyeol always stuttered, and the stranger never hesitated to give him what he asked for. He was swift to put his hands on Chanyeol, smooth skin tracing down his form, mouth hot on Chanyeol’s neck before taking skin in his mouth, sucking and biting. And it felt so much better than any other touch or any hickey Chanyeol had ever received-- he felt like he was on fire: it almost hurt, how desperate he was for more, how the energy rushing through his body seemed to connect with all of his nerves.  _

_ And the stranger’s hands would tease around Chanyeol’s waistband before slipping under his boxers or removing them entirely, his touch electric and addicting. Sometimes he would fuck Chanyeol and sometimes he would just jerk him off, his mouth always marking and biting and whispering filthy praises in that honey voice. And when Chanyeol came, god it was so fucking good, energy and pure desire rushing through him.  _

_ The stranger always left him like that-- breathless, overwhelmed, sensitive. And always craving more. Aching for the next time that he would come to him, and make him come.  _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
